Impossible
by idioticonion
Summary: Response to drabblethon prompt: Barney crossdresses. Alternative universe Season 4-ish


"Sheesh, you've got good legs," Robin says, fixing the seams of his stockings; straightening them, her fingers lingering over his calf muscles.

Barney grins. "But the arms give me away every time."

"And the hands. Big, man hands," Robin laughs.

"You know what they say about big hands?" He says, doing that Mexican wave thing with his eyebrows. She giggles and covers her mouth, trying to make a straight face.

"I've seen it, remember? I know how big it is." She can't help but look up at his groin because it's in her eye-line. There's something very kinky going on there. Male flesh beneath French silk cami-knickers.

He wiggles his hips, grinning.

"Why do you want to pick up a lesbian anyway?" She asks, sitting back on her heels. "It doesn't make any sense."

He looks disappointed. "Oh Scherbatsky…"

"Don't give me the spiel, Stinson. Why, _really_?" The pads of her fingers skim over his thighs. She leans in, very slowly, and rubs the tip of her nose over his groin, just brushing the silky material.

His eyes go very wide. "Because-" His voice starts high-pitched, then cracks. "Because it's not easy."

She smiles. "Because it's impossible, you mean?"

He shrugs. She watches his Adam's apple bob as her fingers creep higher. The silk twitches. She runs her nose over the bulge. She can feel him _throb_…

"Every day, I try and do some impossible things before breakfast," he babbles. "What's the worst that can happen…?"

"The bra's a good touch," she says, flashing him a look, a pout, fluttering her eyelashes. Her fingers creep higher. "You need to get some padding. Your hips are too straight up and down."

His toes curl under. "Robin…" He didn't expect this from her. Hell, _she_ didn't expect this. Is it really going to happen?

"You want me to help you on with that dress? Fix your makeup?" She asks, teasingly.

"N-not really."

She likes this - his uncertainty and his need. He doesn't push it, even though she knows he wants to. She can see it in his eyes. He just wants to throw her down on the rug and fuck her. Her fingers slide under the loose material, which flows like water over the back of her hands. She follows the line of his garters. His skin is warm, warmer, hot. He flinches when her thumb strays too near his groin.

He stops her. He reaches down and grabs her wrists and pushes her away.

She frowns, looking up at him, confused when she sees the raw pain in his eyes. She wants to question him but he pulls her to her feet, not hesitant so much as _careful_. He'll stop if she gives him any sign she's not into this.

She wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss him _so_ badly. What's the solution to this much sexual tension? What's the solution that doesn't lead to war?

"Barney… " She murmurs. What does she want, though? What happens after the kiss? "This is impossible…"

"Yes," he says, not letting her go, not pulling her closer. Their lips are almost touching. She runs her tongue over her bottom lip and she can feel his breath. She can feel the bra pressed against her chest, two bumps filled with padding.

She reaches down and twangs one of his garters.

"Ow!" He says, frowning, smiling. This close, she can see every line on his mobile face; decipher every expression. They hover, a half-inch, a centimetre, a millimetre between them. So close, so close.

There is no way she's backing down from this one. After all these months, dancing this dance, one step forwards, two steps back, this isn't how she'd imagined (fantasised) that it would finally happen between them.

Him, dressed in women's silk underwear, getting ready for another epic scheme.

Her, dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup.

Their lips so close for so long that it feels more intimate than any first kiss, fumbled and desperate with passion.

His hand slides around her waist, pressing into the small of her back, holding her close.

This has gone on too long to laugh it off. Way, way too long. She can't make an excuse that this kiss was a stupid, impulsive mistake - because they haven't kissed.

If he breaks away she's going to kick him in the balls. Cami-knickers. Whatever.

"Are you wearing eyeliner?" She blurts.

He grins - the skin crinkles around his blue, blue eyes. "What? Yeah! A little bit. Heh… And mascara…"

When she speaks, she's sure her lips are going to touch his. How can they not? Hers are moving and his are moving and they are just so close. They are going to kiss accidentally in a minute.

Can you kiss someone accidentally?

She reaches out, runs her fingers through his hair, starting at his temple and tracing through the soft, soft strands (no product, he is going to/will be wearing a wig…) until she's holding the back of his head.

She's aware of the subtle give and take between them. She's aware that he's just as scared of this as she is. She's aware that this is a terrible, terrible idea.

She's aware of how much of a risk this is.

"So the lesbian thing…?" He says, raising an eyebrow. "A turn on for you?"

"Am I going to have to kiss you just to shut you up?" She asks him. This close, she can see right through him. This close, she knows exactly what he's trying to hide - because it's exactly the same as everything she's trying to hide, and she's much better at playing this game than he is.

He closes the gap. He presses his lips against hers. It's fluid and they _fit_ and she doesn't need to guide him or hold him in or push him back because he's perfect. Because he _knows_. Perhaps she's not so good at this game. Or perhaps she doesn't _want_ to hide any more.

He pulls her top over her head and it feels like they never break the kiss. It feels like magic. He goes for the clasp of her bra, working it single handed. She pulls at his but it's weird - the damn thing is the wrong way around on another woman, ah, _person_. She struggles and laughs and he bats her hand away and undoes it himself.

They come up for air - she's half naked, he's half naked, their foreheads pressed together, both panting.

"Yeah…" She confesses, looking up at him. "Yeah, Barney. It's a turn on…"

"So… bedroom?" He asks.

"Kitchen counter?" She proposes.

"Shower?" He counters.

She laughs. "All three…"

*--*--*

"Barney - that's impossible!" She says, a lot later on. It's so much later that the light is streaming through the window.

"Come on! Says the girl who's done it on a windsurfing board!"

She laughs. "Are you still going to keep doing that stuff? All these impossible… 'bits'?"

"Only with you, baby!"

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. Where are those stockings?"

His eyes light up. "Really? Scherbatsky! I _love_ you…"

"I'll give it a try, Barney. I'm not promising anything…"

She roots around on the floor for the stockings, snapping one.

"Robin…?"

"Yes, Barney?"

"You know that dress, that green one? With the bow-thing?"

"Yes, Barney. I'll bring it over tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

"Heh. Awesome."


End file.
